"I don't care," snapped the other. He darted up the steps. Hatch listened until he heard the door of the studio close.
It was ten minutes to ten o'clock when Hatch left the building. Now he would see Miss Stanford and have her identify the gloves and the veil. He boarded a car and drew out and closely examined the gloves and veil. The gloves were tan, rather heavy, but small, and the veil was of some light, cobwebby material which he didn't know by name.
"If these are Grace Field's," the reporter argued, to himself, "it means something. If they are not, I'm simply a burglar."
There was a light in the Dorchester house where Miss Stanford lived, and the reporter rang the bell. A servant appeared.
"Would it be possible for me to see Miss Stanford for just a moment?" he asked.
"If she has not gone to bed."
He was ushered into the little parlor again. The servant disappeared, and after a moment Miss Stanford came in.
"I hated to trouble you so late," said the reporter, and she smiled at him frankly, "but I would like to ask if you have ever seen these?"
He laid in her hands the gloves and the veil. Miss Stanford studied them carefully and her hands trembled.
"The gloves, I know, are Grace's--the veil I am not so positive about," she replied.